


made your mark on me

by LilyEllison



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Matt does his best work in hallways, New Year's Eve, Post-Season/Series 03, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyEllison/pseuds/LilyEllison
Summary: Matt and Karen have big plans this New Year’s … if they can just get home. Written for the 12 Days of Karedevil holiday event.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Comments: 22
Kudos: 39
Collections: 12 Days of Karedevil





	made your mark on me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Quietshade and irelandhoneybee for being my first readers!
> 
> Inspired by Taylor Swift's [Dress](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_GneCw-IoA). ("I don't want you like a best friend / Only bought this dress so you could take it off...")

Karen brushed her hands over her dress and examined herself in the mirror. This would have to do. If she didn’t leave for the party soon, Foggy’s texts would reach DEFCON 1 levels of panic.

She still wasn’t quite sure how he had talked them into attending a fancy New Year’s Eve party in Tribeca anyway. “Think of the connections we could make!” he’d said, and both she and Matt had known it was code for “Don’t leave me alone with Marci’s shark friends!” But they’d agreed to it anyway. There was something about the idea of getting dressed up and sipping champagne that appealed to her — at least for one night. And if a not-insignificant portion of that appeal was the mental image of Matt Murdock in a tuxedo...well, could anyone really blame her?

She’d picked her own dress a little too carefully. It was black and silky, hugging her neck in a halter in front and dipping low in the back. Her hair was curled and swept to the side, leaving her skin bare exactly where someone might reach out with a steadying hand — in a friendly, collegial gesture, of course. If she was being brutally honest with herself, she would have to acknowledge that she’d chosen the dress because it reminded her a whole lot of a black silk bedsheet, artfully draped, and there was a part of her that wanted even the slightest touch to bring to mind _skin_ and _silk_ and _bed_.

But Karen wasn’t being brutally honest with herself at the moment. Parties were a time to let loose, not to be so uptight, not to worry so much about what it all _meant_. She hadn’t been this excited about going to a party because of a guy in ages — maybe ever.

And the sparkle in her eyes, the pink in her cheeks as she looked in the mirror, were undeniably there because every flirty interaction they’d had over the last few days told her Matt was feeling the rush, too.

* * *

The cab ride over gave her more time to think. Traffic was a horrible snarl and she found herself ruminating on it all — everything that had happened since the moment Foggy held up that napkin at Father Lantom’s wake and “Nelson, Murdock & Page” became the new focus of three lives.

Karen had agreed to the new firm in a giddy blur of _Matt’s alive_ and _Fisk will rot in jail_ and _I can have my boys back again_. But in the soberer days that followed, she forced herself to be logical about it. It was not going to be easy for Matt to change. It probably wouldn’t be easy for Foggy to readjust to a shoestring budget. And she would miss the satisfaction of seeing her byline in the Bulletin.

Their friendships still needed so much work to be fully repaired. That day in the butcher shop, it had been clear as the sunshine that they all loved each other, but they _all_ needed to be better about communicating, even if Matt’s case was the most extreme.

And then there was that thing that Karen’s stomach still did every time Matt walked into the room. But she’d already gotten used to that, used to tamping it down, and she could keep doing it. They were so far away from whatever it was they used to be that it didn’t feel like much of a danger.

When she added it all up, on her own, away from the happy glow of Matt and Foggy’s eager encouragement, she didn’t change her mind — she decided the possibilities of Nelson, Murdock & Page were truly worth all the risks.

So far, at least, she’d been right.

But that thing with Matt had never entirely disappeared, in spite of all the tamping-down. And now, months later, it felt stronger than ever. They’d talked — not a _lot_ , really, because it was all very complex and neither of them had ever been skilled at telling the truth about themselves, but _enough_. Enough that Karen thought she understood what he’d been through, why he’d made the choices he had.

And now it was like all that resistance she had felt for so long — all those walls and locked doors and masks — had melted away, and they were tumbling, falling, flying toward each other again.

Somehow, despite all the baggage and broken promises of the past, it actually felt like _fun_.

So when she walked into the party and immediately spotted Matt in the center of the room, surrounded by three gorgeous women who were all laughing, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smile. He looked even better than what her imagination had been able to conjure up — crisp and polished with exactly the right amount of scruff mixed in.

Karen moved closer, close enough that Matt would know she was being deliberate about it, but without speaking or doing anything else that would give him an excuse to acknowledge her presence. The women, of course, didn’t notice her at all. She used the opportunity to drink him in — admiring the line of his jaw, the fit of his tux — knowing from the way his head tilted toward her curiously that he was taking her in, too, in his own way. A flare of appreciation sparked between them, making Karen feel for a moment like they were completely alone in the middle of the crowded room. She gave it a few more breathless seconds, feeling warm down to her toes. But when it seemed like he might move toward her, even without an excuse, she flounced away to the actual full-size bar that Marci’s boss had in her palatial penthouse.

Karen pointedly ignored more than one dude who tried to get her attention, and she focused instead on the bartender, a man of about 60 who looked like he probably answered to “Jeeves.” He had just served Karen her drink when she felt that warm hand she had been expecting on her bare back.

Approximately one million shivers ran through her at his touch, and she had never been more ecstatic about a wardrobe choice in her life.

“Avoiding me, Miss Page?” Matt’s voice at her side was as warm as his fingers on her skin.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she answered, pleased that her voice came out sounding steady. “You just looked like you were busy.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he echoed smoothly, his thumb rubbing up and down, and she had to fight to keep breathing. “Karen, I—”

Then he pulled away abruptly and she had a split second to be bewildered before she heard, “There you guys are!” in Foggy’s already-tipsy voice.

“Damn, Karen,” Foggy said when she turned around, his eyebrows lifting high. “And a ‘damn’ to you, too, Matty. Glad you’re both living up to the high standards for attractiveness we set at Nelson, Murdock and Page. It would be unfortunate if you dragged the average down too much from my eleven-and-a-half.”

“Oh, twelve, easy,” Karen said, kissing his cheek as he grinned. He did look pretty dapper in his black tie.

“Marci made me promise to bring you to meet our host,” Foggy said. “She’s heard so much about this trio of twelves. We can’t disappoint her.”

So Karen took Foggy’s left arm and Matt reached out for his right one and they allowed themselves to be escorted across the wide expanse of the penthouse.

* * *

The air was biting when Karen stepped out onto the terrace. It almost sent her scrambling back inside, but she needed an escape from the endless introductions and small talk. Foggy might not have been all that serious about making connections, but Marci’s boss was — though Karen didn’t imagine they’d really get many new clients out of this kind of party.

She _had_ been enjoying the cat-and-mouse with Matt, though, alternating between being tantalizingly close and completely out of reach. But she was done with that now — she was more than ready to be caught in a dark corner.

Luckily, he knew this game.

“Little warm in there,” she greeted him when he stepped through the doors, too. They were far from alone — other guests were streaming outside and clustering around the heat lamps. But the shadows were ample for getting a bit lost in, and she guided Matt into one.

“But now you’re cold,” Matt said, his sweet face all concern. He set his cane aside and unbuttoned his jacket, moving to pull it off.

And this was it — the now-or-never moment. The put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is moment. Karen’s heart was jackhammering as she said, “Wait.” She put a hand on his arm to stop him. “We can share.”

She slid her arms slowly, deliberately, around his waist, under the jacket, and she watched a smile bloom over his face as he pulled her against him. She wanted very badly to kiss those curving lips of his, and this close, she couldn’t think of a single reason not to. Her whole body was tingling with his nearness as her eyes drifted shut, but their lips had barely brushed against each other when the crowd started to shout.

“Ten!...Nine!”

And Foggy had told them both repeatedly that he wanted to hug them at midnight. “Foggy’ll be looking for us,” Karen said.

“We should go inside,” Matt agreed. But he didn’t let go. He tilted his head closer, his mouth next to her ear. “Come home with me, after.”

Karen barely managed to stop herself from gasping. She was immediately flushed all over, not to mention ridiculously turned on. She couldn’t deny to herself that it was exactly what she wanted — why she’d worn this damn dress, after all — but she still hadn’t expected him to be this direct. This, well, _honest_.

She had to wonder if her goosebumps under his fingers actually spelled out, “Take me, I’m yours” in braille.

"OK," she breathed, bobbing her head, and he kissed her, quickly and expertly, just as everyone around them exploded into cheers.

_Happy New Year_.

* * *

Karen wasn’t sure exactly how they made it through the rest of the party. She didn’t remember how long they stayed after midnight, or anything beyond a blur of sensations — Foggy’s arms and Marci’s perfume, the bubbles of the champagne, smiling until her face hurt and repeating _goodbye, goodbye, goodbye_. But at last the door closed behind them and they were shrugging on their coats.

She reached out to press the button for the elevator. “That was...fun,” she said as she turned to Matt, feeling suddenly nervous in the brighter light of the vestibule. _What if he didn’t really_ —

But he was already leaning in. “I thought we’d never get away,” he said intensely, and then he was kissing her and she forgot to worry. This was really happening.

The ding of the elevator’s arrival came too soon, and they once again split apart reluctantly as other guests trickled out from the party and joined them for the ride down. Excitement and frustration mingled in Karen’s chest. Why was it that people with superpowers so rarely had the really convenient ones, like teleportation? She would give anything to already be closing the door to Matt’s apartment behind them.

Especially when they spilled out onto the street and she remembered it was New Year’s. In fucking Manhattan. Getting home was going to be a nightmare.

She reached out for Matt’s hand as they started to walk away from the building, and even though they were both wearing gloves now, that small touch was _strike, spark, flame_ all over again. She cozied up against him, a beacon of warmth in the cold night.

“I think there’s a cab coming,” he murmured. But his lips were nuzzling under her ear and her eyes were closed and by the time his words actually wiggled their way into her brain and she forced herself to pry her eyelids open again, all she could see were the taxi’s tail lights down the block.

“Dammit, Matt,” she said but it came out all breathy. “That was probably the last available cab in the city.”

He didn’t seem the least bit chastened.

“So what’s the plan?” Karen asked, scanning for any sign of another cab with its light on. “It’s too far to walk. At least in these shoes.”

“I could carry you.”

She laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

And she screeched and giggled when he did just that, sweeping her up easily, her hair tumbling loose and flying in her face.

“Put me down, you idiot,” she hissed. “Someone will _see_ you!”

And thank god he complied, but the sound of his laughter and the mischievous look he was wearing warmed her heart so much she thought she could heat the whole damn island.

* * *

They ended up in the subway. It was definitely not Matt’s favorite option, especially not on a night like this, when they were packed in so tightly that personal space was a nonexistent concept. With the crowd, and the noise, and the smells, his face turned slightly gray as they lurched along over the tracks.

Karen pulled his head to hers and pressed their foreheads together, letting a few strands of her hair fall around their faces. “Hey. It’s just you and me, OK?”

He nodded, and they breathed together.

* * *

“Do you still—Did I do this wrong?” Matt asked after they emerged back into the night, much closer to home, and they’d had time to drink in the fresher air. They were at the spot where there would no longer be any question that their destination was Matt’s place — the route to her apartment would diverge right here.

“I mean,” Matt continued tentatively, “you don’t have to...Should I ask you to dinner first?”

And Karen felt a prickling in her stomach — was he going to second-guess them out of this after all the trouble they’d gone through to get here? The last thing she wanted was to get stuck on the metaphorical front stoop again.

_This is the part where you’re supposed to tell the truth_ , she reminded herself.

“I think I’ve eaten enough meals with you to say with confidence that I enjoy it,” Karen said lightly, squeezing his hand. “But other activities have been...less explored.”

His smirk was priceless.

“Well, when you put it that way,” he said, and by mutual, unspoken agreement, they picked up the pace.

* * *

By the time they reached Matt’s building, Karen was already slightly breathless, from the walk and the cold and the anticipation. And it was only going to get worse, because there was one last obstacle ahead of them: the many flights up to Matt’s door. _Of course_ , he had to live on the very top floor.

They were both caught up in the moment now, taking the stairs quickly, staying close together but exchanging few words. The tension was building building building with every step, and finally Karen missed one, stumbling a bit onto the third-floor landing. Matt reached out to steady her, and somehow that gesture of assistance turned into a full-on embrace, and then she was pressed up against the wall and his mouth was hot against hers. She lost herself completely to the taste of him, to the slide of lips and tongue, to the panting breaths that punctuated the quiet. Her knees felt shaky and her hands gripped his shoulders for support.

His glasses were off and his gloves disappeared and his fingers were moving down from her face, her neck, to the buttons of her coat, slipping each one open deliberately as his lips touched hers. His hands crept inside the heavy wool, clutching at her hips, pulling her tighter against him, her back arching away from the wall. His right hand began a lazy journey, sliding up over the silk at her waist to her ribs and finally curving around her breast. And she moaned her approval into his mouth because, _yes_ , that’s what she wanted, what she’d been waiting so long for. She wanted him to _touch_ her. Everywhere.

His lips broke away from hers as he traced a finger around her nipple, already hardened from the chill rushing in and from _him_. His face grew intent as he moved his fingertip in a slow circle over and over, just the fabric of her dress separating him from her skin, until her breath was coming fast and she thought she might melt right into the floor. When she whimpered, her hips twisting with need, Matt gave her a little squeeze and she gasped out a loud _ohhhhh_ that echoed in the stairwell.

“Hold that thought,” he said, and she was forced to remember that he had neighbors and they were not home safe quite yet.

Only a few more flights to go, tugging each other along, and when the door to Matt’s apartment finally closed behind them, Karen thought she might weep with relief. Matt used the lapels of her coat to pull her face to his so he could kiss her, then pushed the coat off her shoulders. She let it fall to the floor as they moved one more step inside. Shedding their outerwear became part of the rhythm of their kissing — her gloves were next to go, and then she attacked his buttons until his coat and his tuxedo jacket joined the sea of fabric on the floor.

It was better now, without so many layers, and Matt held her close, rubbing his hands all over her bare back. Karen closed her eyes, trying to convince herself it was really happening — that she was finally here with him, after so much time worrying they’d lost this forever. That she was finally getting her hands on that ass of his, after so much time admiring from afar. She smiled, nuzzling her nose into his neck as she gently squeezed firm muscle. _Damn_. It was worth the wait.

She reveled in the feel of their bodies clutched tightly together, ready for the very last of their secrets from each other to be stripped away. He was hard against her, the length of him pressing into her belly, and her mouth was watering at the thought of—

Fuck, they were still wearing too many clothes. She started in on his buttons again as he yanked off the bow tie. And then his shirt was untucked and hanging open and she was sliding her palms over his chest, running her fingertips down the long planes of his torso, murmuring tiny pleased sounds, drinking in the pure beauty of him. She was so focused on touching him, so caught up in the feel of his skin, that she was startled when he boosted her up onto the small table in the hallway in a smooth motion, sweeping something — a basket? — to the floor.

She wasn’t the only one eager to strip layers away. He found the hooks for her halter and she was immediately half-naked as the silk pooled around her waist. His mouth glided down her neck to press kisses against her shoulder and across her collarbones, and she let her head fall back, opening herself up to him, her fingers tunneling into his hair. And she couldn’t help it, she guided his face lower until his lips trailed over her breasts. His hands were cupping her as his mouth worked magic, licking and teasing and sucking, and the ache between her thighs grew hotter, grew unbearable. She _needed_ —

She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him roughly as she slid down off the table, shimmying to let her dress fall all the way off. He made a growly sound of appreciation as his hands roamed over her hips, and she liked this, how damn sexy he made her feel, standing there in panties and her fancy shoes, and _oh_ , she wanted wanted wanted him. She definitely needed to get those pants off of him — but her progress was interrupted by the slide of his fingers between her legs, into the slick wetness waiting for him there, and _fuck_ she could no longer think straight.

“ _Matt_ ,” she gasped as he teased her clit, sending a jolt zipping through her, and then slipped one thick finger inside her. And god it was good, it was so, so good, but it wasn’t enough. And it was too late now to worry about going slow, about making this last, because there would be plenty of time for that later, and if she didn’t have all of him, and very, very soon, she was absolutely going to lose her mind. “Please,” she murmured, her hands going to work on his waistband and he took the hint, and finally the very last layers separating them were gone. She was back on the little table and he was right there and it was going to happen, and—

“Hold that thought,” she whispered suddenly, echoing him from before. “Condom?”

“Right,” he said and he was handing her his pants from the floor. She pulled out what they needed and rolled it onto him, actually glad that she was being forced to slow down for a second and savor the idea of having him hot and hard and exactly where she wanted him.

And then he finally, finally was — he was filling her up and moving inside her and moaning her name like it was the only word he could remember. Her world narrowed down to just this, to the tingling, electric pleasure of their bodies joining together, until she was overwhelmed with a kind of desperate euphoria. And he knew, he knew what she needed, and his hand was there, giving her that last nudge into pure bliss. She shuddered and dug her fingers into his muscles, gratified when she heard him follow her with a ragged cry. And then he was supporting her weight and she was clinging tightly to him, and it took her a dizzy moment to realize the sound ringing in her ears was the broken table collapsing to the floor.

He started laughing, and she did, too, and she had never heard anything quite so joyful.

* * *

Much later, Karen stretched out languidly between silk sheets, breathing out a long noise of contentment. The room was a lighter shade of dark — dawn was approaching.

“Happy?” Matt asked, trailing the backs of his fingers up and down her arm.

“Mmmmmm,” she said, snuggling in closer to him. “Very.”

“Good. That’s all I want. It’s my New Year’s resolution.”

She laughed. “What is?”

“Make Karen Page happy.”

She regarded him mock-seriously. “Do you break your resolutions?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said solemnly. “I don’t have the greatest track record. But this time, it’s going to be different.”

She leaned in to kiss him, long and deep.

“You know, I really think it is,” she murmured.

And the last thing Karen saw before they fell asleep, intertwined, was the first light of the new year touching Matt’s face, turning them both to gold.


End file.
